


To Judge Both the Living and the Dead

by orphan_account



Series: The Credo Collection [6]
Category: Lewis (TV), every detective show on TV
Genre: Explicit Language, Gen, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-23
Updated: 2011-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:52:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last in the series, in which Frazer is judged, punished and moves on</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Judge Both the Living and the Dead

Haystacks and Baa-Lamb called around to take me into the nick the next morning, not as a colleague but under arrest for assaulting a police officer although I knew they would keep this internal. It is, and always has been, police policy to keep dirty laundry in-house. A disciplinary inquiry, a full committee, one of the big-wigs around, I expected any of that.

 

I was left in a cell and nobody thought to bring me food or drink … or maybe they did and just thought better of it. I didn’t know how long I was there because they’d done the usual thing of taking my belt, shoe laces, watch etc.

 

Eventually Pally Ally came in with a cup of tea and a bit of sympathy. “Heard you had a spot of bother, Haggis” she grimaced.

 

I nodded and downed the tea in one, I was parched. She smiled and patted my arm and then started to waver, dissolving like a watercolour in the rain………….. silly boy, Frazer, the tea was spiked. Should have thought about tha…………………….. thud, I hit the floor.

 

**************************

I used to like Gregorian chant. In the past I used it to relax, meditate, even, but I knew I’d never be able to hear it again without wanting to crap myself with fear.

 

I was stretched out on a rough wooden table with my hands and feet tied. By lifting my head as much as I could with my arms stretched above me I could see that it wasn’t a table, it was a fucking rack!

 

I couldn’t see the faces of my tormentors but I knew what it was – the Inquisition. Black robes and hoods hid their faces and all I could think was that I was going to die, probably very slowly and painfully. Well, it’s your own fault, Frazer, I thought, you bloody started it, with all your ideas about suicide and life not being worth it. Where the fuck was James Hathaway? If I ever needed a Guardian Angel, it was now.

 

“Confess” A black-cowled figure bent over me and with a start of horror I recognised his aftershave. Well, you wanted your Guardian Angel, Frazer, and here he is  
.

“To what?” I croaked.

 

“Get it over with and confess, Cameron”. Another figure appeared on the other side of me and I recognised the voice. Well this one would want me dead for sure. My old boss, bloody Taggart who hated my guts and to be honest it was mutual.

 

“Confess to what?” I shouted.

 

“Put him to the question in extremis” snarled Taggart but one of the assembled Inquisitors stopped him.

 

“He must be given the opportunity to repent without coercion first. Continue, Brother.” I wasn’t sure but I thought that might be Morse, it was familiar.

 

James bent over me so that his lips were nearly touching mine, causing me to shiver but whether it was from fear or desire, I couldn’t tell.

“You can confess or you can counter-accuse me if you want to get off scot-free” he whispered, then he spoke more clearly, using his priestly voice and continued “You have unnatural desires towards other men. You want to commit perverted acts with them. Is this not so?”

 

I looked up into his eyes and was lost. I could accuse my Guardian Angel or I could undergo torture, that was what the question in extremis meant. There was no choice to be made. He had brought me back from perdition and I wouldn’t abandon him now.

 

“Fuck you, the lot of you. I confess to nothing. I’ve been a piss artist and a layabout maybe I’ll confess to that, but to nothing else – if you can prove anything else, bloody prove it, you’re all supposed to be policemen.” The sanctuary bell rang once more.

 

There was a stirring among them as if they were communicating quietly.

“Make him the offer of clemency,” said a voice that I thought I knew – Fitz, my old mate from Glasgow, the criminal psychologist, the cracker … was he offering me a lifeline?

 

An inquisitor who really did have a tonsure put his cowl back and put himself in my line of vision” I recognised him, the monk who did detecting – Cad-something. Cadfael, that was it.

“If you know of any present who are more guilty of this sin, my son, you can accuse them in your stead. An exchange will be made.” I shook my head, not daring to look at James, whether he was gay, Bi or neither, I owed him my silence and loyalty.

 

“Get on with it.” Taggart had been joined by my other old enemy Rebus – Glasgow and Edinburgh, the usual story. “You know what “in extremis” means, don’t you, Cameron? If you don’t confess we’ll give you a stretch, and I don’t mean a spell inside.” He slowly and quite deliberately pinched my nipple between thumb and forefinger and then twisted it hard. I banged my head back on the wood to stop myself shouting out.

 

“Sod you, Grayfriars fucking Bobbie” I hissed at him. A hand reached out and removed Taggart’s from my chest but I couldn’t see whose it was because my eyes were watering with the pain.

 

“Admit it – you took that male prostitute back to your bed sit for immoral purposes. Confess” That was a northern accent I recognised – George bloody Gently, Mr Morality, Mr respect-the-law-no-matter-what.

 

“No, Sir, I didn’t. I took that male prostitute back to my place because my superior was kicking seven bells out of him and I wanted to save my superior from a murder charge.” I was sweating, I could feel it running down my sides and most of all I wanted not to cry. I twisted my face to the side and could see James, nodding quietly. Was he trying to encourage me? Was that the tack I should adopt?

 

“I confess to one thing.” I shouted “Common decency and humanity. If that’s a crime then bloody kill me now but get me off this fucking table” I was getting hysterical and the drug they had given me was making me faint.

 

“Ahhhh sod this for a game” said Hunt and removed his robe “I’m not pissing about like this any more. I never joined the pigging Masons anyway. Get him off of there. I’ll believe he’s a bleeding heart liberal but not a shirt-lifter. Give me back my DC, or send him to Midsomer for the rest of his natural. I don't bloody care.”

The grumpy old git I’d recognised as Gene Hunt’s old Guv, Jack Frost, followed suit saying

“I’ve never been into these stupid games. Count me out as well.”

As the old monk and James untied my arms and legs I was really worried that I was going to piss myself. Under his cowl, James gave me a sweet smile. I heard the sanctuary bells again and knew that in some way I had got through another trial.

 

Once free, I slipped away and went back to my bed-sit where I resisted the temptation to pour myself a large scotch. No, that was just one of the paths I’d retraced back to where I’d gone wrong. I took the card that James’ had given me from my pocket and dialled the number. A recorded voice asked me to wait and some music played.

 

Disloyalty; not sticking to my principles; booze; getting sidetracked into sex I didn’t really want because of all that business in the past; giving in to it, not asking for help; pride, thinking I could handle it alone; equating humility with weakness ….

 

I’d realised so many places where I could have avoided throwing myself off the cliff of despair that eventually led me to that hospital bed. Given the chance, I’d do it so differently another time around, starting by kicking seven bells out of my cousin the first time he tried to abuse me. Bells? Why did I keep hearing sanctuary bells?

 

The television set crackled into life and James face appeared.

 

“Look at me please, Frazer. Keep looking at me. Don’t look away.” There was music, very softly in the background and I started to feel drowsy. “Concentrate on my voice, Frazer. If you can’t look at me, then listen to me”

 

**********************************

 

 **And the Life Everlasting.**

 

There was no music now. Someone was yelling very loudly. It was me. What the hell? I was unable to move properly, wrapped up in some kind of tarpaulin, but soft. I could hear voices but I couldn’t open my eyes because the lights were so bright.

 

A voice I recognised was speaking

“Come on, little man, come to your Grand-dad. There. You’ve done a grand job here Lyn. Who’s a lovely boy then? Eh? You going to open your eyes then, eh?” I opened my eyes and looked straight into the face of Lewis who put me up on his shoulder. I wobbled my head around, unable to lift it properly and found a pair of blue eyes smiling at me. James!

 

“Mummy’s going to ask Uncle James to be his Godfather, of course” a female voice was saying. A long slim finger slipped into my hand and jiggled slightly. I tried to grip it, desperate to let him know I was there.

 

“Would you like that little Robbie? Would you like me to be your Godfather, hm?” I opened my mouth to say “yes please very much so” but it came out as a gurgle and a big burp.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes, then” he laughed, leaving his finger in my hand. I think he knew.

**Author's Note:**

> As many will have realised, much of this is written from personal experience, but, I hope, in an entertaining manner. I can only hope that this "sinner" can find as much redemption as the fictional Frazer Cameron, with or without a Guardian Angel


End file.
